


With the Moon on Our Side

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: "because they kind of share that really", Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Insomnia, M/M, Referenced abuse - though nothing graphic or explained in much detail so don't worry, bottom zayn (bc of the side ziam), emotional baggage (harry), good luck!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:11:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unfortunate bar incident can be the start of everything. Or the start of nothing. It's all up to Louis. If having to listen to his best friend drive himself insane over a straight bloke isn't enough, Louis' got a quarter-life crisis that goes by the name of Harry Styles.  </p><p>In other words, Louis is an insomniac but Harry simply can't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With the Moon on Our Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Larry fic so I really hope you like it! xx  
> This is also my first time writing something on ao3 so if there are mistakes I'm deeply sorry.... I'm not quite sure how to use this website.  
> Big thanks to my sister Emily for helping out with some plot details!

Louis Tomlinson is a twat. 

He was supposed to take Nick Grimshaw out for drinks thirty minutes ago, but halfway through a marathon of marking papers, Louis had decided that a twenty minute nap couldn't hurt anybody. Hey- he is a drama teacher, not Superman. He can't do everything right, though he tries.

If waking up to ten angry texts from Grimmy and that disgusting after-nap taste in his mouth aren't enough, Louis rummages through his closets four times and he still can't find his tight, bum-hugging jeans anywhere. Zayn probably took them again, the bastard. Louis is a single, attractive twenty-six year old and is about to go clubbing. He needs to show all possible male suitors exactly what his arse is made of. Reluctantly, he wiggles into normal fucking jeans and saunters over to the bathroom.

Styling his hair into a messy quiff- Louis' specialty, but only on occasion- he gets another damn text from Grimmy.

Louis' views on the man are complicated. They met when they were in year one, because their mums were close friends. From then on, anytime their parents would go out to dinner or have gatherings of some sorts, Louis and Nick were forced to spend time with each other. Throughout the years, mutual hatred turned into mutual indifference, which turned into a mutual acceptance of each others' company. If Louis is honest, he was never all that good at making friends. Before Zayn and Niall, Nick was the only friend he had. 

Louis decides to call Nick, for he feels he can deal with the wild Grimshaw much better on the phone. He picks up on the second ring.

"Louis William fucking Tomlinson-" Louis holds his phone away from his ear while Grimmy screams at him. He gets worked up over these things. It's kind of absurd, really, it's bloody eight at night and it's not like the bar closes anytime soon. But then again, Louis shouldn't be one to judge. He tends to make molehills out of mountains, and he isn't sure which one is better. When Louis thinks Nick is done, he brings the phone back to his ear. 

"Nick, listen. Okay, I hear you, all right? I'm sorry, I fell asleep marking-" Louis hears him call out, 'again?' exasperatedly, though he ignores it. "Here. I'll buy you a drink. Or two. Or three. I don't care."

"Fine," Nick sighs. "But be here in twenty, Tomlinson, or I'll hang you by your balls over my fucking fireplace, you hear me?" 

"Kinky," Louis replies.

"Twenty minutes." is Grimmy's reply. Louis can practically feel his scowl through the phone. He hangs up and heads toward the door to pick up his unfortunate acquaintance.

-

The bar is packed with people and Louis is on his fourth drink. Grimshaw is chatting up some extremely vibrant (Are those pink tribal print trousers?) bloke at the bar, buying him drinks- with Louis' money as well- and Louis wants to throw up. And to get more drunk. Both options are bound to happen regardless, so Louis goes with 'getting more drunk.' 

He has downed his fifth drink when he turns his attention towards the middle of the bar, where some people are dancing drunkenly. It's kind of funny to watch, really. Louis may be highly intoxicated, but that definitely doesn't mean he can't ridicile others in the same position as he.

He squints a bit when he thinks he sees a person walking out of the crowd towards him. He leans closer on his barstool, but it starts to tip forward. He tries to steady it but the stool comes crashing down, Louis landing on his feet. He sways, but stays put.

That's odd. It's almost as if the whole crowd had parted for this man, like how the waves in the Red Sea did for Moses. Is he Moses? How drunk is Louis? 

Louis' eyes focus and he finally gets a look at who he is dealing with. 

The lad is tall, with long curly hair tied tightly into no doubtedly the best bun Louis has ever seen. He's tall and lanky with legs that look miles long, and if Louis almost blacks out from how hot this man is, no one has to know about it. 

Louis makes eye contact with the tall bastard, which is his first mistake. He feels like his life is ending. Actually, spontaneous self-destruction probably would have been easier. More comfortable, even. The man brings his hand up to his hair, and-no, this can't be happening-pulls his hairtie out of his mess of curls in one swift motion. He shakes his head a bit, and it all falls down into his face like little tendrils of Louis' death.

Louis closes his eyes and tries to regain his composure, and when he finally thinks he's okay enough- after a little pep talk to himself, which went along the lines of 'you can do it tommo you have nothing to be afraid of you are hot your arse is absolutely to die for any boy would be lucky to have you remember if you survive this night you can treat yourself to the cake in the fridge' Louis opens his eyes. Standing inches away from him is-

"Hi. I'm Harry Styles." the curly boy says to Louis, holding his hand out to him. Louis blinks at him blindly, unsure of what to do, before coming to his senses and offering his hand back. Harry's hands are soft- and fucking large, Jesus Christ- and Louis doesn't ever want to pull his hand away. Or think about how big Harry's dick is. Definitely not. 

"Louis Tomlinson." Louis manages to get out before pulling his hand away and holding it awkwardly to his side. 

"Can I buy you a drink, Louis? You just, um, you looked kind of lonely, and I don't usually come here, or to clubs in general, actually," Harry rambles, "and I moved here a month of so ago, and I only know one person, and-" He stops abruptly.

"I'd like to be your friend. If that's okay with you." Harry finishes. Friends. Louis can do that. His legs are shaking madly as he follows Harry to the bar. 

-

If Louis had known that he would be publicly humiliated twice in the same hour in front of his current love interest, he would have just pulled the covers up over his head and blown Nick off.

It technically wouldn't even make a difference if Louis was there or not. By the time Harry and Louis have taken their seats on the other end of the bar, he has looked all around and Grimmy is nowhere to be seen. 

Louis isn't phased, though, since this definitely isn't the first time Nick has left him here. One time, Louis actually had to come get him at the emergency room because he fell and broke his arm with some guy's dick up his ass. And mark his words, Louis is never going to let him hear the end of that story.

Louis turns to Harry. He notices that he's already ordered his drink: a daiquiri. Louis has a crush on a boy who likes fruity drinks. What the fuck.

"So what'll it be, Louis?" Harry asks him.

"Um, a beer, thanks." 

"Bor-ing." Harry taunts him, cracking a smile. Louis notices prominent dimples and is going to fall out of his seat. 

"Beer is traditional. Beer never fails me. Although, I do wish it would come with a tiny umbrella. That way I can be prepared for miniature rainstorms." Louis pokes at the yellow ornament sticking out of Harry's drink.

"Hey, only a true man can drink a daiquiri. You're just jealous." Harry defends playfully, prodding Louis' arm with his elbow. Louis' skin is on fire.

"So how are you liking Manchester? You said you just moved here?" Louis tries to change the subject.

"Yeah, it's really nice here. I used to live in Leeds, but then-" Harry stops. Louis looks at him, confused. Harry takes a large gulp of his daiquri.

"Never mind. Anyway, I moved in with this old friend of mine, and things have been good. I was here with him, actually, he told me I needed to 'get myself out there' and all. But then his girlfriend needed him, so he left me here. And then I met you, so-" 

"Louis Tomlinson? Is that you?" Someone calls from behind them.

Startled, Louis whips around in his seat, trying to find the source of the voice.

It turns out to be no other than Ben Winston. Ben was Louis' friend in high school. Actually, come to think of it, he wasn't even really Louis' friend. An acquaintance, even worse than Grimmy. They went to something like two parties together, made out at one of them senior year, and parted ways at graduation. Ben had denied he was gay. Fine by Louis, though he thought he'd never see him again. 

"Ben..." he manages to get out, hoping he can conceal the obvious discomfort he knows he shows on his face. 

"Long time, no see, my man!" Ben exclaims cheerfully and Louis wants to slam his head on the table. "I'm honestly not surprised you're here!" What? 

"You're not surprised? What does that mean?" Louis makes a point to sound menacing. No more games. He really doesn't want to relive his senior year of high school.

"You know how you were back at school..... remember that one time you got so fucking drunk and you took that guy... what was his name... Mark! It was Mark. And you-" 

"No! No no no, that's okay, Ben, you don't have to-" 

"Oh. Is this your boyfriend?" Can this night get any worse? "Louis' got some moves. You probably know that, though. Damn. You're a lucky guy." Louis wants to die. Because this is definitely the way he wanted to come out to Harry. Thanks, Ben.

"Okay, Ben. It was nice talking to you. Gotta go." Louis gets up abruptly from his chair, feeling all the blood rush to his head from the sudden movement. He ignores it and tries to push through people to get out of there. It's starting to get suffocating. Harry follows him. 

"Louis, wait! Come back!" He can hear Harry behind him, but he doesn't stop.

All of a sudden, Louis feels extremely lightheaded. He stumbles out of the club into the crisp September air and everything goes black.


End file.
